Gerhard grins at Oberon, "I'm just glad there were no more of those big bastards! I could hear Dolgrim's ribs creak when that giant bugger whacked 'im. Poor devil. He won't be able to bend down to lace his boots for two months!"

"Let's have a look in that sack, Oberon. He sure was guardin' it wit his life, wasn't he?"

Gerhard takes a look at the sack. He'll also check the body for any valuables.

"Dolgrim seems to be made of pretty stern stuff. He could even be a Northerner if he was a bit taller and less beardy. Plus, I'm pretty sure he never takes his boots off."Oberon mumbles. He continues to keep a eye out for other skull collectors...

Dolgrim steps into the camp clearing, grinning: "A Northerner, eh? No thanks, too cold for my liking. I'm fine, by the way. Just a little sore, that's all..." Admiringly he looks down at the two dead hobgoblins: "Well done..! Did you get anything out of these two? The big one had nothing on him... Well, at least they won't be collecting any more skulls, that's for sure," he notes with satisfaction as he gently pushes one of the corpses with his foot.

Oberon turns to Dolgrim, "All we got out of him was a bit of a gurgle just at the end. So if this group collects the skulls, who do you think turns the bodies into bones in the first place? And what do they want with the skulls?"

Oberon takes off his helmet for a proper scratch at his own skull, "We'll find the answers at the temple I'm guessing."

You do a thorough search of the camp, including the sack and hobgoblin bodies.

The fire you notice has bits of leather and metal in it, like it was used to burn clothing.

Once the skulls are moved out of the way, the sack holds a pile of gold and silver coins (230 gold, 188 silver), along with a pair of leather boots. A small tag within the right boot is inscribed with curious writing.

Fur-cap wears leather armor and has a pitted sword.

The other hobgoblin is armed similarly, but has a belt pouch which contains an ivory pipe. An owl is carved on the bowl, and you find a smaller, black leather pouch within full of a fragrant pipe weed.

Fenwick puts on the boots and immediately feels light in the feet, almost buoyant. He leaps straight up and thanks whatever Gods he holds dear that he was in a clearing, he shoots up 10 feet off the ground before landing lightly.